The Meeting
by Cats070911
Summary: DI Havers returns to London and is expecting to meet Sgt Nkata. Instead he has set her up to meet DCI Lynley in the hope they can repair their friendship.
1. Barbara

**Author's note:** As always the characters belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC.

* * *

In the twelve months since she had moved to Maidstone to take up a Detective Inspector position Barbara Havers had not returned to London. The job was more varied but she missed the pace of the city. There were less murders and violence in the sleepier countryside of Kent but she had been kept busy getting to know her team and learning about the local area and the realities of rural crime. This trip was unavoidable and while she was in the city she planned to list her flat for sale. Barbara did not intend to return to London again and for the price she would receive for her modest one-bedroom property she would have enough to buy a small but comfortable house close to the Kent Constabulary Headquarters.

When Winston had invited her to dinner her first instinct had been to decline but it was not his fault that she still felt vulnerable. He was finally Sergeant Nkata and seemed to be happy now that he was not working directly for Lynley whose own promotion to Chief Inspector had come within a month of her leaving. It gave her little satisfaction to know Tommy had avoided it to stay working with her all those years. Their final parting had been painful and sad. She would not admit to anyone that she had cried for three hours afterwards and if she thought too much about it now for cry for another three. Still, it had been her choice to leave and it was for the best. Now she simply had to avoid accidentally bumping in to him and she would be fine.

In the last few months he had ceased to be her first thought of a morning or her last thought at night. If it had been love she had felt all those years then she knew she no longer felt it the same way, if at all. The intensity had gone to be replaced by historic, sentimental warmth. She could barely remember the electric thrill when he had touched her, even briefly, and when she closed her eyes she no longer had a firm image of him, it was more of a shadowy awareness. She still missed their camaraderie terribly and had sometimes wondered if perhaps now, with the distance of space and time, they could be friends. Barbara understood however that it would never work as she would fall straight back to old habits and pine forlornly for a man who would never be in love with her. She had started to casually date David, a local accountant who was the brother of her landlady, as a way to move on. It was not serious yet but she was a least able to see that it might be if she could stop comparing everything that he did with what she imagined Lynley would do.

She looked at her watch as she left the court building. She would not have time to go back to her hotel and change before meeting Winston so her best blue trouser suit and white shirt it would have to be. She only hoped she did not spill anything. They had planned to meet well away from the Met office. She had not said directly but she thought Winston understood that she did not want to risk seeing any of the old team. They were rendezvousing in a gastro pub off New Fetter Lane that was close to the courts but definitely not a policeman's haunt. As she neared the corner she paused and considered abandoning the dinner and ringing through an excuse. It did not seem like a good idea to spend any time looking backwards; she should focus on her new life in Kent. She crossed the road away from the pub but a voice deep in her head stopped her. She turned and with a deep breath walked back. Curiosity triumphed over her fear. If she faced her past she would be stronger and Winston had been a good friend. She peered through the chequered panes of the oak doors looking for him but he did not seem to be waiting so pushed the right hand door open and walked inside. The pub was modern but with timber dados and furniture to lend it a 'ye olde' pub ambience. Black vinyl clad stools clustered beneath the oak bar, straining under the weight of fat barristers and grovelling interns. It was bustling with the perpetual motion and bluster of besuited legal pretenders but it lacked the gritty reality of a real London pub. Winston had said to meet him upstairs so she threaded her way past the noisy, crowded bar and climbed the creaking timber stairs covered in a runner of blue carpet frayed at the edge of the treads. She studied with distaste the myriad watercolours of disproportionate faded ducks and swans that festooned the walls of the stairwell.

She dodged around some drunken lawyers who had moved their stools away from the upstairs bar to roost precariously close to the stairs. She was searching around for Winston's mop of dreadlocks and almost walked past him. "Barbara!" _Tommy?_ Her heart stopped beating as her ears processed and rechecked the sound.

She turned to see Tommy staring at her clearly as astounded to see her as she was to find him there amongst the drunken defenders of failed humanity. Her stomach dropped and her heart started to pound furiously against her ribs. She wanted to turn and run. A big, mesmerising grin broke across his face. It was a smile he had given her so often that for a split second she had forgotten about Kent and about everything from the last year. It was just like meeting him after work for pint like they had in the old days. Her reverie was broken by the simultaneous beeping of their phones. She pulled hers from her pocket and saw the text from Winston '_Sorry but you both need to talk_'. She glanced at Lynley and could tell from his frown that his message was the same.

She would never forgive Winston regardless of his undoubtedly good intentions. She looked around for him knowing he was somewhere watching and had seen them find each other. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him he did not understand how she felt and how hard it had been for her when Tommy had started dating again only a few months after returning to work following Helen's tragic death. She knew then, as now, that she had no claim over Tommy and that he was only following her advice to start living again but at the time it had felt like a betrayal. She was the one that had stuck by him, been accused of overstepping the line from, what was his phrase, 'caring friend to intrusive pest'? Yet she had been the one he called when he had been in trouble. She was the one he always called on. At the time his lapse of judgement had been easier to overlook but when he consciously started dating a string of well-bred, attractive but vacuous women it was too much. She had to get out and find herself a real life.

"Hi Sir," she said stiffly, "I'm sorry it looks like Winston set us up. I'll be off then."

"Barbara wait!" Tommy stood and looked as if he would come after her anyway. "Maybe we _should_ talk."

The longer she stood there and the more he spoke the harder it was for her. She knew it would end badly. It would either rekindle her feelings or they would argue. She could not bear either. "Nah, there's nothing to say is there? We should just leave the past where it is Sir."

"I need to know why."

She shook her head then turned and walked away. How could she tell him that being in love with him had changed from a joy to a burden that she could no longer bear? She knew he had not understood why she had not told him she was leaving until the Friday of the week before she had to report to Kent. She had not told him she had passed her exams while he had been on compassionate leave and she had not approached him about promotion, instead going directly to Hillier. She had not wanted to hurt him but she had known that it would. She just needed to get out before she let him destroy her.

"Why did you leave me Barbara?" It was the plaintive question of a scared and frightened little boy. The mistake she made was turning back towards his voice. She saw his expression, the same loss and confusion he had when she told him she had accepted the promotion to Kent. It was the same face he had worn as they sat together on the hill after Helen's funeral. She retraced her steps to the table and sat down.

"It was time to move on," she said trying to keep the sadness out of her voice, "we had run our course."

"I would have supported your promotion at the Met; you didn't have to go to Kent."

"Yes, I did," she said, "it wasn't just about the job." Tommy looked down at the table but did not reply. "So how have you been?" she asked, trying to change the subject before either of them said something awkward.

"I tried to ring you," he said not answering her question.

"I know, I got the voicemails," she said, "but I never seemed to get you when I returned them." Perhaps if she had dialled his mobile instead of the main station number at a time she knew he would not be there she would have connected but of course she had not wanted to talk to him. She had returned the calls so he could not accuse her of impoliteness but actually talking to him was too dangerous.

"No, so it seemed." His voice was tinged with a bitterness that, although not unreasonable, cut to her core. She was struggling not to reach out to him in some way. She was right back where she had been a year ago and she hated herself for it.

"Anyway, how is crime fighting in London these days?" Again she tried to divert him and keep the conversation light.

"Boring."

"Do you like being DCI?"

"It's fine. It's a job but I might retire to Cornwall soon. Mother has been unwell and," he paused and looked her straight in the eye, "I don't seem to have anything to get up for every morning any more."

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. That had been pointed and hurtful. This conversation was going the same way that their last one had gone. It was futile and only served to drag up a lot of ill will. He wanted her to always be there for him but he was not prepared to be there, really be there, for her. "I hope it works out for you," she said as evenly as she could, "I really should be going. It's been a long day. Remember me to your mother." She stood and started to push back her chair but Tommy reached up and put his hand on her arm. Even through her jacket the jolt of excitement she had always felt raced up her arm and set her heart racing. She sank back down into the chair and watched the relief on his face.

"How are you enjoying Kent?" He now seemed to be diverting her.

They talked work for about half an hour, comparing cases and victims and their teams. It was a safe topic and felt comfortably familiar. In one way she did not want it to stop but on the other hand it was eating away at her resolve and turning her life on its head. She had already decided to tell David that they had no future. He did not compare to Tommy in any way and she would never love him. She was doomed to a life of loneliness and unrequited longing.

"So are you seeing anyone?" The question stunned her. Since when did he think she was worth someone dating her? He had always mocked her attempts to meet someone.

"Yeah, sort of," she replied awkwardly.

Tommy looked shocked. "Is it serious?"

"No," she said. _Certainly not after tonight!_ "What about you? Have you settled on anyone yet?" It sounded acrid leaving her mouth and she could see from his expression that he was shocked by her tone.

"No. I stopped seeing people after you left," he said, "none of them were…" He paused and seemed reluctant to finish his sentence.

"Helen," she said sympathetically, "I understand. I'm sorry." She was remorseful that she had not supported him more at the time. Of course he would have needed to date a few women to find someone special.

"I wasn't going to say Helen." He looked at her strangely and she struggled to understand his meaning. "None of them were what I need in a womanly what I realised I wanted."

The old empathetic Barbara, best friend of a brilliant but broken man, was instantly back trying to comfort and encourage him. "That doesn't mean the right woman isn't out there. You should keep looking Sir."

"I had what I wanted and I lost it." His eyes were so intense as he looked into hers that she flinched. His answer surprised her. She knew he had loved Helen but she thought he had believed it had been a mistake marrying her. Perhaps with time he had appreciated what they had together. Barbara felt sorry for him and reached out and quickly squeezed his forearm.

"I'd better be going Sir. It was good to see you," she said genuinely. It had not been as bad as she thought but she knew it had set her back months in trying to get over him. At least she had settled the idea of whether they could ever be friends, it would never work.

"So early? What about dinner?" He looked disappointed.

"Nah, thanks but this place is not my scene. My hotel is close by. I'll order some chips or something."

"I'll walk you back," he said, "maybe we could share the chips."

"I don't want to be rude but I'd prefer if we just left it here eh?"

He looked defeated and resigned to his fate. "Let me at least walk you to your hotel."

She hesitated then nodded. "Ta." _What harm could it do?_

They walked slowly and silently to the sliding glass doors of the hotel. Barbara was slightly sad that she did not have anything meaningful to tell the man who had been so much a part of her life for so long. "Thanks." It was all she could think to say.

"My pleasure."

Silence hung awkwardly between them just as it had done the last time they parted. At least this time he was not angry. She remembered that night clearly. She had extended her hand to shake his and he had turned his back. She had stormed out cursing him under her breath. As she reached out her hand this time she hoped he would return the gesture. He did, then as their hands locked he pulled her to him and kissed her softly on her right cheek. She knew she was blushing. It was a much better parting and she somehow managed to kiss his cheek in return before he pulled away. Their hands were still locked and it was just a fraction too long for a normal handshake. She looked in his eyes and saw them reflect her own sadness. If they were different people she would probably invite him to her room but they were not those people. They were Lynley and Havers who had once been partners.

"Goodbye Sir."

"Goodbye Barbara."

She tried to smile and he smiled back, not his broad grin but a tight, sad acknowledgement that he knew he would never see her again. She made her body turn and walk towards the lifts. She pushed the button and waited unsure how long she could hold back her tears. The lift arrived mercifully quickly and before she stepped in she looked back at the door. Tommy was still there, staring at her. She sighed and stepped inside the steel and glass box, back into her new life.


	2. Tommy

The clock on the wall was probably fast. If not then Winston was running late as usual. Tommy found the atmosphere of the pub cloying and pretentious. It hardly seemed like the sort of pub Winston would even know about let alone frequent. He recognised some of the overweight legal clerks that were huddled at tables doing deals for the silks and juniors in their chambers. Most would sell their souls for a few shekels of solicitor's silver. He checked his watch and looked around for Winston wondering what on earth was so secret that they needed the seclusion of this place to talk.

Lynley fidgeted with his beer and was just about to leave when he saw her scurrying past his table. "Barbara!" The word left his mouth before it went suddenly dry. She turned and stared at him as if she had just discovered the Holy Grail after a lifetime of searching. The background noise faded to silence and the only thing in the world he was aware of was her face. He knew he was grinning foolishly but he made no attempt to hide his delight at seeing her. It had been too long and he had missed her terribly, far more than he had even admitted to himself. Their phones chirped and he instinctively reached into his pocket. The text was from Winston and simply read, 'Sorry but you both need to talk'. He frowned before understanding that meeting her here was no coincidence.

"Hi Sir." Her voice was tight and tense. "I'm sorry it looks like Winston set us up. I'll be off then."

"Barbara wait!" Tommy stood in case he had to chase her. He wanted to talk. The way they had parted had hurt him deeply and he still did not understand why she had plotted behind his back to leave him. "Maybe we should talk."

"Nah, there's nothing to say is there? We should just leave the past where it is Sir." She may as well have slapped him.

"I need to know why." She shook her head at him then went to leave without explanation or farewell. It was just as painful as a year ago when she had told him bluntly that she was leaving and then had tried to shake his hand as if she was saying goodbye to the butcher, not to someone who had been her partner and her friend for so many years. He had turned away to hide the pain that he felt. When she had left his office cursing him, his pain had turned to anger. He had chased her to the door but as he watched her storm down the corridor he had known there was no point. She had left him and there was nothing he could say that would bring her back.

"Why did you leave me Barbara?" It sounded pathetic, even to his ears but he needed to know. That had been the hardest part, not knowing what he had done to have her want to move to Kent. He could have understood that she wanted more challenge, that she wanted promotion, but she could have had that at the Met and they could still have been friends. It had felt more personal at the time and her reaction now confirmed it. She stopped and looked at him and seemed to resign herself to telling him. She sat down and he followed, grateful that she had not walked out again.

"It was time to move on, we had run our course." What is that supposed to mean?

"I would have supported your promotion at the Met; you didn't have to go to Kent."

"Yes, I did," she said, "it wasn't just about the job." She was talking about their partnership but it also sounded as if she was talking about their friendship. So this was personal! He could not look at her in case he said something stupid or bitter or both.

"So how have you been?" She was clearly trying to change the subject. At least she was not trying to get away from him again.

"I tried to ring you." He had wanted to apologise for his behaviour. He had not wanted their last words to be bitter ones.

"I know, I got the voicemails," she said, "but I never seemed to get you when I returned them."

He wanted to lash out and tell her he knew the game she had played. She had not even tried to contact him, she had simply left messages. "No, so it seemed." He tried, but failed, to sound neutral and non-judgemental.

"Anyway, how is crime fighting in London these days?" She was trying to change topic again. This time he knew she would leave if he was too curt.

"Boring."

"Do you like being DCI?"

"It's fine. It's a job but I might retire to Cornwall soon. Mother has been unwell and I don't seem to have anything to get up for every morning any more." He was looking for her reaction to his thoughts of retirement and suddenly recognised that he had no purpose in life now Barbara was not in it. He had tried to ignore it but as she sat here looking at him he knew it was so very, very true.

He watched her close her eyes and swallow. He had hit a nerve but it was not the reaction he expected. He was transported back to that night in her flat. It was not only him that had lost that, she had too and yet she had chosen to leave. He still did not understand why.

"I hope it works out for you. I really should be going. It's been a long day. Remember me to your mother." She was using her professional voice, the one she used when informing grieving parents that they had found a body that might be their child. It was a sympathetic but emotionally detached voice and he wanted to scream that it was him, her old friend, she was talking to and that she should just tell him what she was thinking.

She glanced guiltily at him and started to stand. She was going to leave and Tommy could not let that happen, not yet, so he put his hand on her forearm. She sat back down in a manner that told him that it was against her better judgement. What is she scared of? He inhaled quickly and let his breathe escape slowly to calm his nerves and ensure she did not think he was trying to pressure her.

"How are you enjoying Kent?" He wanted to guide the conversation onto more familiar and less controversial ground and to buy some time to think. At last she seemed to relax and he saw glimpses of his old Barbara. He knew her well enough to understand that she had not left the Met, she had left him. He had suspected it all along but now it had been confirmed he needed to know why more than ever. They had been friends, good friends, best friends and yet everything had changed so quickly. He remembered she had encouraged him to start living more and when he had she had begun to drift away from him. She moved away deliberately but he was sure he had not changed his attitude towards her in any way. He hoped he had not; he had not meant to change anything. He had liked their relationship. It had been comfortable and comforting.

"So are you seeing anyone?" Where did that come from? The question surprised him as much as it did Barbara.

"Yeah, sort of." He looked up from his beer, clearly shocked. Never ask a question you don't know the answer to, or don't want to know the answer!

"Is it serious?" He simply could not process that she was in a relationship that was not with him. He paused amazed at what he had just thought. Where did that come from?

"No," she said clearly embarrassed. "What about you? Have you settled on anyone yet?"

The tone was bitter and he suddenly saw a pattern unfolding. She had not liked the women, or number of women, he had dated. They had not meant anything to him. He had simply been trying to do what she wanted and get back into his life. What had she expected?

"No. I stopped seeing people after you left," he replied truthfully, "none of them were…" You! He stopped himself from blurting that out just in time. The truth of it floored him. He had dated the women he was expected to fancy but they had not interested him in the way he needed or the way Barbara did.

"Helen," he heard her say sympathetically, "I understand. I'm sorry."

He wanted to explain but he could not find the right words. "I wasn't going to say Helen. None of them were what I need in a woman or what I realised I wanted."

"That doesn't mean the right woman isn't out there. You should keep looking Sir." She sounded exactly as she had always done when she was trying to make him feel better. He had missed the way she made him feel. He had missed her terribly. He had driven to Kent a few times in the early months and sat outside the house where she boarded. He had once made it to the front door but had lost his nerve and retreated to London. He had not known what to say to change things back to the way they had been and when he accepted that it was gone forever he had ceased trying.

"I had what I wanted and I lost it." He was looking into her eyes for some flicker of understanding or a clue as to whether she felt the same way. She reached out and touched his arm and he felt a strange peaceful warmth wash over him. Then he saw her eyes, she thought he meant Helen and the opportunity was lost.

"I'd better be going Sir. It was good to see you." He could see that she was sincere and it gave him hope that they might be able to rekindle their friendship. It was something he wanted more than anything else.

"So early? What about dinner?" He heard the desperation in his voice and his mind worked in overdrive to think of a more suitable restaurant in this part of town.

"Nah, thanks but this place is not my scene. My hotel is close by. I'll order some chips or something."

"I'll walk you back," he said thinking that her idea was better than any of his, "maybe we could share the chips."

"I don't want to be rude but I'd prefer if we just left it here eh?" Tommy was devastated. He had thought they had made progress. He had anticipated that over dinner they could continue to reconnect and rebuild.

There was no point in pushing too hard when she was in this mood. He knew that from bitter experience. He bought himself some time by saying, "let me at least walk you to your hotel."

She thought about it. He could see her eyes darting quickly before she nodded her head slowly. "Ta." He tried hard not to smile.

Barbara said nothing as they walked and his ingrained social skills deserted him as he weighed up what to say when they reached the hotel which was disappointingly close to the pub. It was a modern glass and steel chain hotel that screamed monotony. They stood awkwardly at the entrance. He wanted to say something that would make a difference.

"Thanks," she said with finality that told him he was not going to share her chips.

"My pleasure." It was instinctive politeness. The silence was almost painful and he could tell Barbara did not know what to say either. He could not bear to part on bad terms, not again. She reached out to shake his hand. It was a stiff and overly formal gesture. Last time she had done that he had been angry and disgusted. This time he would not turn his back on her. His hand shot out and clasped hers. On impulse he leant forward and touched his lips to her right cheek. He could feel the heat rise in her face and wondered if it was shock, embarrassment or pleasure. The kiss was longer than socially necessary and when she twisted and kissed his cheek it seemed to hold more intent than a simple goodnight. He debated if he should kiss her properly but sensed that would frighten her. He looked in her eyes and saw a sadness that troubled him. Their moment had past, not now but a year ago and it was too late. Suddenly he realised why she had left him.

"Goodbye Sir." It sounded final but full of regret.

He wanted to change it now but their timing had been all wrong. It was unfair to her to try to change it. She had someone in Kent. He might even be upstairs now waiting for her; maybe that was why she had refused dinner. She deserved happiness and he hoped she had found it. He could not disrupt her life when he did not know what he wanted from her. Was it friendship, love, marriage? And could he really offer any of them? "Goodbye Barbara."

She smiled grimly and he tried to smile back. She pulled away and sauntered to the lifts. He watched her push the button and then she glanced back at him before she disappeared. Fear gripped him in the same way it had when she had been shot. A thousand images of her flashed through his mind like a surreal dream. When Helen had been killed he had known what he should feel but instead he felt guilt. When Barbara had been shot he had felt something he did not recognise but now standing here, feeling it again, he knew. He pushed his way past a group of businessmen trying to hail a cab and rushed up to the front desk.

Receptionists were trained not to give out room numbers, especially of women to aggressive men, so he needed a strategy. He picked out the youngest looking person and quickly read her name tag 'Kirsty'. He pulled out his warrant card. He could turn on the charm if he needed to but he would try to be professional at first and ratchet up pressure if he needed to do so.

"Good evening Sir. Checking in?" she asked as she turned to assist him.

"Good evening Kirsty. No, I am Detective Chief Inspector Lynley of the Met," he said showing her his warrant card, "I need to see a colleague who is up from the Kent Constabulary, Sergeant Havers. I was told the room number but forgot it."

Kirsty looked up the name. "Yes Sir, she is staying here. I can ring up and tell her."

Damn! He flashed his best smile and was pleased as she swayed shyly from side to side and looked down. He might be getting older but he still knew how to impress young women. "I don't want to see her right now," he lied with an ease that vaguely troubled him, "there is someone else joining us and I need to wait for her. That's the trouble with getting old Kirsty, you forget things so easily. I think Barbara said she was on the..." He paused and picked a floor at random. "Fourth floor?"

He was looking straight at her and her guard was down. "You're not old at all Sir," she said with far too much familiarity, "the fourteenth."

Good, that narrows it down. "Oh yes that's right and I think it had a two in it."

Kirsty giggled and Tommy leant a little closer in case she wanted to whisper. "You seem to know, fourteen twenty three."

Tommy smiled again. "Thank you Kirsty. You have been very helpful."

He strode confidently towards the bar knowing she was watching him. He turned to see her engrossed in conversation with the man in a cheap serge suit who had been tapping his foot impatiently behind him. He seized his chance and circled back behind the pillar and snuck into the lift foyer just as the doors to a lift were opening. A man on a walking frame limped out and Tommy smiled tightly trying not to show his impatience. As soon as he could he entered the lift and repeatedly pressed '14' hoping it would make the doors close faster.

The hotel floors were as bland as he had predicted. Beige walls with watercolour prints of London landmarks dotted every few yards and a brown-grey carpet that would hide a multitude of indiscretions assaulted his senses as he searched the for 1423 down the corridor shown on the small sign in front of the lift. He paused to straighten he coat and push his hair off his face then knocked. He could hear the television go silent then her feet padding to the door. It swung open and she stared at him dumbfounded. He pushed his foot through so that she could not shut him out. She had shed her coat and her shoes and untucked her shirt. This was the Barbara he knew and if he was being honest, loved.

"Barbara, I'm not going to let you go again. We need to talk."


	3. Reunion

"How...did you…?" Barbara stared at Tommy, confused and unable to think.

"Charm and my warrant card. The girl on the desk gave me your room number. I needed to see you." Tommy heard his voice crack like a nervous teenager and he cleared his throat to cover his anxiety.

Barbara did not notice the slight edge to his voice. To her Tommy looked calm, in control and as if he knew exactly what he wanted from her. She felt the opposite. She was glad, almost relieved, he had followed her but had no idea where this was leading. Surely it could not be what she hoped? Common sense told her it was anything but that, yet the look in his eyes was new and it perplexed her. They had the tender fondness she had often seen but there was something else there too, a smouldering intensity that was almost frightening. Barbara shivered as she tried to decipher his stare.

She did not want to let him see how much having him stand there had affected her. Barbara took a breath and tried to sound indignant. "I'll have to talk to them about security. What if you'd been coming up here to murder me or worse?"

"How do you know I haven't?" he asked with a falsely menacing tone that he thought might ease the tension between them. She was clearly as lost in this situation as he was and the alarm on her face when he said it was priceless. He laughed before softening his voice, "I'm not, you know that, but I think you should let me in."

She scowled at him but stood back and let him past. The door clicked ominously closed behind him and she dreaded what might follow. She watched him walk over and sit confidently on the edge of her bed. A bit too bloody familiar! They had parted amicably why did he have to come up and spoil everything again? He would never understand why she could no longer just be friends with him and she had no experience with relationships to adequately explain it. "We said everything downstairs Sir, we should just let it go."

The room was the same bland decor as the hall, impersonal and uninviting. Cheap blonde laminate masquerading as real wood accented the table, suitcase rack and wardrobe that all ran together to dominate one wall. The small TV was a cheap brand with a blurry and faded picture. Tommy grimaced involuntarily as he sat on the lumpy mattress that dipped unpleasantly in the middle. This was hardly the place he would have chosen to tell Barbara how he felt about her but he had little choice.

Barbara crossed the room to look out the window so that she did not have to look at Tommy, afraid that she might let down her guard. She had been about to undress and shower before ringing room service to order her staple diet, chips and beer. The news story about the fire in Manchester had stopped her removing her shirt and now she pushed it self-consciously back into her trousers as she wondered what to say or do. She watched him closely in the reflection of the window. He was not as controlled as she had thought. He was shifting his weight awkwardly and she had seen that expression before. He was working up to saying something important. Her heart started thumping.

This remarkable woman in front of him could be volatile but that fervour was something he had always found attractive in her, ever since their first case in Yorkshire. Most of the women he knew had been brought up to be controlled and never flustered. It was one of the things he had admired in Helen when she was his friend and had listened endlessly to his lamentations about Deborah. As his wife her ability to detach herself and be dispassionately sterile and logical had driven him mad. The contrast was stark. Barbara had been sympathetic about Deborah as he had made her traipse all over the moors following his futile flight of fancy but had balanced his naïve romanticism with her realistic and practical approach to life. Yet at other times she was as equally illogical and sentimental as him and he had needed to ground her. That was why their partnership had been so successful and why their friendship had worked. It could also be why a relationship would work. They were different and yet alike; a good counterbalance to each other. As he looked at her now he could not believe he had let her walk out of his life.

Tommy had decided that simple honest statements would work best but all the succinct phrases he had thought of in the lift now deserted him. As he sat looking at her trying not to look at him as she straightened her clothing all he wanted to say was 'I love you' and follow it with a never-ending embrace. Instead he asked what he really had to know before he said anything more, "do you love him?"

"Who?" Barbara was confused. Tommy's voice had been so uncharacteristically soft she had at first thought he had said 'me' and her heart had skipped.

"Your man in Kent." Tommy stood and went to stand behind her, almost trapping her against the window. Despite how he felt about Barbara he did not want to interfere if she was truly happy. That was unfair. He had wasted plenty of chances and she would never forgive him if he ruined things for her now. Tommy had seen her eyes downstairs and was confident she did not love whatever-his-name-is, or at least not as much as she would if there was any real future in the relationship. He was prepared to gamble. "I want you to be happy Barbara. I'll let it go if you can tell me honestly that you do."

"Don't ask me that. You should leave please Sir," she said without conviction. She could feel his presence behind even though he was not touching her. She wanted to turn and face him but she knew she did not have the strength to resist his eyes. She would blurt out the truth and that served no purpose. David was a good man who amused her and cared for her; it could be enough. She could never have Tommy so she could settle but she had known since she had first seen Tommy earlier that she could not accept second best. It would not be fair on her or David. Damn you for ruining everything! Barbara was starting to become angry with him. She wanted to turn and yell at him.

"I have to know," he said quietly.

"No, I don't love him!" she shouted bitterly. "Why ask me that? I've been gone a year and you made no attempt to see me and now because of Winston's meddling you suddenly think you have the right to interfere in my life again. Well my flat doesn't need painting so there is nothing to throw your money at this time and I didn't meet David via some dodgy dating service so you've no reason to mock me. You've no reason to be here. It was friendly downstairs. Better than last year. You should've just left it at that."

Tommy did not move. "No!" he said calmly but firmly. "I'm not going to leave it. I should never have let you go last year. We belong in each other's lives. It's that simple."

She turned and glared at him and made a noise that sounded vaguely like a growl. She could be viscous in her attacks to protect the vulnerable; or clever and determined as she stalked her prey. She had always reminded him of a lioness as he had listened to her shout insults and indignation at him or as she had defended him to others. He still bore the metaphysical scars of those previous attacks and he sensed he would need to bear one more before he would feel that wonderful protectiveness that he had come to depend on. He knew his words would unleash her anger which might mean he could finally break through the armour-plating and discover how she really felt about him. He smiled to hasten the process. Three, two, one...

"You arrogant ponce!" Barbara fumed at the assertion and moved closer to him. "You decide that, and I'm just supposed to play along."

"Yes," he said provocatively.

"Get out. I've had enough of this...this attitude." She was angrier at him than she had been in years.

"No you haven't," he said calmly, "you need to yell at me and tell me what you feel so we can move on."

"No," she retorted determined to regain the upper hand. Now he was staring at her and his eyes bored through her. She was worried he knew, or soon would, why she had left him and she was mortified. She could feel her face reddening. Hopefully he would mistake it for rage.

"Maybe I should start then and tell you why I'm here?"

She tried to move away from him but he put his hand on her arm narrowing her avenues of escape. Her heart almost stopped before it resumed its relentless thumping. "Because you think you own me and you want a friend so I have to play along regardless of how it affects me."

Tommy decided on direct action and moved closer to her. "No, because we have danced around the truth too long. One of us has to say it. I love you Barbara."

Before she could react he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her head spun from the words as well as his touch. His arms had slipped around her and he was holding her tightly to him. His lips were gentle but burning and without thinking she returned his kiss and bunched the back of his jacket in her fist.

For Tommy feeling her respond to him was like entering paradise. Knowing she loved him made his world suddenly brighter and feeling her love made the optimism he had lost years ago surge back. Then he felt the sting of her hand as she slapped him, hard. "Oww!"

"How dare you!" she screamed and he released her from his embrace.

Tommy was worried that he had misread her feelings. He had suspected she might be angry but he thought this was what she wanted, what they both wanted. "I'm sorry," he blurted out embarrassed, "I thought you felt the same way. I thought that was why you left me."

"It was! But you didn't feel that way a year ago. You were too busy dating every woman in London with long legs, good breeding and an eye on your title to notice me. You never came after me. You let me go. No, in fact you pushed me away."

This was the vitriol he had expected earlier and he needed to help her get it out of her system but at least she had confirmed she loved him. He tried hard not to smile. He had no right to do that no matter how elated he felt. He had made a mess of everything last year and wasted a year of their lives. "I did feel it. I just couldn't admit it," he responded sheepishly.

"Why not? Because I'm not good enough to be in a relationship with you?"

"Really Barbara! How can you say that after everything we have been through?" Now Tommy was genuinely angry. Her class issues had plagued them since the beginning and she needed to understand it made no difference to him. "Maybe I never thought I was good enough to be with you. Did you ever stop to think about that?"

"No because that's just an excuse. It would never work, even if it did we'd have all the pressure from your family, the Met, everybody. I accepted that I could only ever be your friend. It was enough but when you started going out with those women and came in and told me all about them I couldn't stand it. I'd lie in bed at night imagining what you were doing with them, it just got too much."

"Nothing. I did nothing with any of them except take them to dinner. I thought you wanted me to, what was your phrase, 'get back on the horse'? I thought you'd feel better if I pretended to be enjoying myself. In reality I was miserable. I wanted to be with you then but I couldn't risk losing you as my friend. I even tried asking you out if you remember but you kept fobbing me off. As soon as you left I stopped seeing any of them. I just sulked in my corner hoping you would grow tired of Kent and come back to me."

"You could've come after me," she spat at him.

"I tried. That night I went after you but you were so angry I just let you go. I was stunned. I had not expected it and you were so…so…cold! After nine years you expected to walk out of my life with a handshake? I don't think I believed you would go. I thought you would stay in touch and then I got angry but after my pride subsided I used to drive down and sit outside your house and wait. Sometimes I'd see you come home but you never once looked over and noticed me." Tommy ran his hand through his hair and sat back on her bed. "I thought you might've recognised the car at least. Once I even got to the front door but what was I going to say? How did I know if you felt that way? It was just an assumption in my head. Then you started to come home with someone. You looked happy so I stopped driving down."

Barbara looked contrite, her anger suddenly gone. "I'm sorry. I never saw you. I expected you to turn up at a crime scene like you used to when I was sent somewhere. Every time I'd look around hoping you were there. You never came and I assumed you were either still angry with me or had moved on."

"If I'd asked that last night why you were leaving would you have told me?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably not."

"Will you tell me how you feel now? Forget about everything and everyone else. Just tell me how you feel about me. We both owe each other that."

His voice was calm and reassuring. "I'm confused," she said honestly, "I knew when I saw you tonight that nothing had changed. I still love you as my friend, I miss not having you in my life and I'm still in love with you but I can't see how it would ever work. We're too different and circumstances…"

"No circumstances," he said, "I asked what you felt, not what you thought."

"Sorry." She sat beside him and looked steadily at the carpet.

"My turn," he said as he took a deep breath, "you had been my friend, my only true and honest friend, and my feelings moved far beyond friendship some time ago but I was too scared of losing you to ever say anything. Then I lost you and it hurt, like nothing has ever hurt before. When I saw you again tonight I had to tell you. I can't let you go again."

Barbara looked up to see that same look she had seen as she opened the door. He smiled at her with that slightly awkward grin that he only ever used for her and the last shred of her defences crashed down. She had no idea how it was going to work but she knew they would find a way. They always had in the past and it would be be different now. She reached up and stroked his face. Suddenly she was falling, pushed back onto the bed by Tommy.

They had fallen onto the bed more by accident than design as he went to kiss her. This is not the bed I will make love to my future wife in! "I love you Barbara." He kissed her with tenderness but urgency and she responded. "We should get married." It sounded sudden but it seemed long overdue.

"What? But I'm in Kent now."

Tommy resumed kissing her, refusing to accept her objections. "Marriage was legal in Kent last time I checked."

"But my job."

"It's fine. We'll move to Dartford or Eltham or somewhere and we'll both commute."

Barbara was stunned but was rather enjoying his attentions. He was a much more passionate kisser than she had imagined. She had only ever seen him kiss Helen and that had seemed much more clinical. "Alright." The words escaped before she had a chance to think about them.

"Oh Barbara, that makes me unbelievably happy." He held her tightly so she could not escape then they lost themselves in their kiss.

Tommy eventually broke free long enough to suggest adjourning to his house. Barbara shook her head. "Plenty of time for that. Stay here tonight."

"But this bed is so uncomfortable," he complained.

"I don't recall asking you to sleep in it Sir."

Tommy grinned at her again. "Sleep is the last thing on my mind Havers but I do think that considering where we currently have our hands we might consider moving onto a first name basis."

"Only if you're a very good boy Sir!" she said wickedly.

It was the last time she ever called him 'Sir'.


End file.
